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In the dimly lit room, a lone figure, his body a canvas of tattoos and scars, sits back, his hand wrapped around his cock. He's a master of his own pleasure, every touch deliberate, every stroke calculated to bring him closer to release. His one remaining testicle hangs heavy, a stark contrast to the smooth, hairless expanse of his thigh. As he nears the edge, his strokes become frantic, his breath ragged. With a guttural moan, he comes, his cock pulsing, his cum painting his abdomen in thick, white stripes.